


An Angel's Fall (the folly of men)

by Amuse_me



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff, I'm exhausted, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Origin Story, Six thousand years, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), This took me so much time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19316428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuse_me/pseuds/Amuse_me
Summary: Crowley wouldn't deny the freedom he had as a demon. He could just do all these sins without a single second of fearing punishment. It was a different feeling from the naive love for all of creation that he once held. It was darker, more sinister, leaving a sour little aftertaste.





	An Angel's Fall (the folly of men)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own good omens. I lost so many braincells writing this.

Raphael wanted to fix everything and everyone.

It was to ire of every angel around him. The leader of the virtues, always harping about the loving everyone and everything. Uriel always said it would get him in trouble. God's creations weren't all meant to be saved, but Raphael thought _different_.

"What's so wrong with loving the stars I've helped make? Why is god the absolute on who I am to love?" He would argue, other archangels shaking their head, wings shuffling in discomfort.

It was slowly creating dissent amongst the other angels under his command, the word of disobedience trickling down the ranks. Discontent arose amongst those who had an ounce of free will. It was a time before time had been invented. Everything was new and the world as one knows it now hadn't been created.

Raphael saw the mirror of himself in Lucifer. Alike in every way excepting for the fact that Lucifer loved God more than her creations.

"She creates to make them _suffer_ ," he'd say, "and they can be erased on a whim. God however, is _absolute_."

They had many a discussion over this while the other Archangels looked on in fear. It was something unheard of, to question her will to its core. To not obey mindlessly. It was exciting.

God introduced this new concept of time. Only a limited number of things could be done together at once. It led to her creating her dearest creation: _earth_.

Raphael was delighted by the idea of earth. It was meant to be this place where god would tinker endlessly, like a new beginning.

Then Lucifer fell.

Raphael's questions grew in number, as the loss of the Morningstar left an empty void in his metaphysical stomach. It was the beginning of something else entirely.

It was the beginning of Raphael's fall. His vessel would begin to grow colder, wings dulling and losing their shine. It would come at the cost of his regular one on ones with God herself, arguing for the right to be able to help.

"It's not in your hands, _angel_."

He began to question the ineffable plan, the holy commands. Many smaller, less important Angels around him fell like stones sinking into the bottom of a pool, easily tempted by the promise of freedom. They would be trapped down below, unable to ever feel the love they once enjoyed.

He would beg and pray later, only being met by the silence of the bureaucracy. His feet sank into the ground one morning, and his wings burned to a dull brown. It took him an eternity to recover from the shock. Some say he never did.

The snake emerged, stripped of his love. Hell called him " _Crawly_ ".

~~~  
He was the one given the task by god, not long since he fell.

"Lucifer cannot be trusted, you must be the one to tempt humanity into sin."

Crawly understood. His fall had made him wiser to her true intent. If she wanted to lead mankind to ruin, then he was willing to lay the first stone.

What he didn't expect was Eve. Her hunger for knowledge, the hunger for the fruit itself. It humbled the snake. In the end, there wasn't much tempting to do. Eve had chosen to eat the forbidden fruit of her own volition.

When the deed was done Crawly approached the angel guarding the East gate. His bitterness of being cut off from heaven made him lonely, and what better company than that of an angel.

"Didn't you have a flaming sword?" He asked him, clearly remembering the blaze, "you did! It was flaming like anything!"

The angel hesitated and Crawly continued, tone light and devoid of mocking.

"You lost it already, did you?"

"I gave it away,"

"You _what_?"

" _I gave it away!_ "

It was there that he realised that Aziraphale, the angel didn't ask God questions. He simply obeyed, obeyed, obeyed until he didn't. It intrigued him.

"It'd be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the good thing and you did the bad one?"

The angel chuckled before sobering.

"No! It wouldn't be funny at all!"

Crawly stared in amazement. He didn't know one could be like _that_.  
~~~  
"Not the _kids_? You can't kill the kids!"

Hell sent him to Earth's surface quite frequently, perhaps threatened by who he once was and what it meant for the rest. Heaven's doors were a far away memory.

He rebranded, coloured his feathers black and called himself _Crowley_. Beautiful, clever little birds.

Aziraphale was perhaps, a similar version of a threat to heaven. For he too was here watching the boat preparing for the flood. He too was aware of the cruelty that she wrought upon her own creation.

He was brainwashed like the rest, but at least he had a heart.

"She will give them a _rain-bow_ , as a promise to not ehm, destroy everything again."

The citizens of Mesopotamia watched and watched as suddenly thunder sounded from the sky, pouring in sheets and sheets.

Crowley watched as well, not a hair on his head getting wet.

~~~

Watching a carpenter from Nazareth being nailed to the cross truly made Crowley glad he fell. _Was this the divine plan?_ The ineffable plan? Is torture and its worship what she intended?

He was harsher to Aziraphale this time, casting a hood so as to shield himself from prying eyes. The principality was resolute in his worship.

The propaganda must have been getting stronger.

Crowley's hands itched to heal, to fix this. But instead he stood there with the people, and watched.

Jesus cried as the nail slammed into his wrist. Crowley looked up at the sky, for the first time truly hating god.

Aziraphale's presence comforted him, if only enough to leave just before the truly horrible stuff occured.

The screams stayed in his mind. He sent the report back to hell, if only to ease his own mind.

~~~  
"Well then, let me _tempt you-_ "

Aziraphale paused as Crowley tilted his head. Interesting.

"Oh," he blushed, lovely for there was no other word for him, "that's your job isn't it?"

Crowley stared and stared through his tinted glasses -convenient, those- at this anomaly for an angel. There was some part of him that was the same as Crowley's. Same intent.

Rome wasn't built in a day, but it did burn down in one. Maybe if he stuck around, all this watching and waiting would be worth the while.

~~~

Crowley tried, truly to fix the smaller things. Maybe if he starts unrest in a part of the country, hell will ignore that a bunch of kids dying from cholera got miraculously cured.

Maybe if he tempts a priest to dip in from the donations box, hell will ignore that a poor woman's business began to soar out of nowhere.

Maybe if he joins the revolt against King Arthur, hell will ignore him offering shelter and food to the needy.

He was working with a lot of hypotheticals, if only Aziraphale didn't interrupt.

"Alright then!" He yelled through his visor, the fog already blurring the outlines of his mortal body.

Crowley pretended that it didn't affect him.

He soon realised that humans themselves were capable of cruelty very well. He simply had to take the _credit_.

The Spanish Inquisition happened and he drank himself into a stupor. Hell gave him a commendation.

~~~  
He didn't mention his tendencies to do very _non-demon-y_ things to Aziraphale. He did however tempt him into forming an arrangement.

Do a bit of both, please both sides.

Aziraphale liked things to be comfortable. He liked his food well done, his clothes to be made of the richest fabrics, his love for humanity was also extended to the material possessions.

Crowley wouldn't deny the freedom he had as a demon. He could just do all these sins without a single second of fearing punishment. It was a different feeling from the naive love for all of creation that he once held. It was darker, more sinister, leaving a sour little aftertaste.

He looked at Aziraphale in the nearly empty theatre, his expression overjoyed as a tired actor recited lines with a fierce delivery.

He really did wonder if his demonic self had any virtues left. If he really was still Raphael, deep down somewhere.

"Yes alright, I'll do that one, my treat."

" _Oh_ , really?" Aziraphale beamed and Crowley had to look away.

If a demon could love, anything could happen.

~~~  
"Animals don't kill each other with clever machines, Angel. Only _humans_ do that"

"Crowley!"

There was something that made him utterly whipped, for Aziraphale.

The angel was soft and whole, in a way Raph- Crowley hadn't felt in an eternity. He wanted more of this feeling, he thought as he saw Aziraphale bat his eyes and declare:

"I wanted crêpes,"

That absolute moron. Oh, how he loved him!

They did get crêpes. They were, as promised, delicious. Crowley healed the son of the chef who made them. He would wake up tomorrow to find his legs in working condition.

~~~  
"I won't let you do this, Crowley!"

The sun was a bright in his eyes. Thank god for the glasses. Crowley had spent most of the century napping, only to wake up and ask of a request.

 _ **Holy water,**_ the paper read.

There was something cruel, in finding out that heaven had been using the image of Raphael, as a means to control and reign in unruly angels. It wasn't why he fell. It wasn't who he was.

He didn't know who he was anymore. And he needed insurance.

"I don't need you!" He snarled.

"And the feeling is mutual, obviously!"

" _Obviously_ ,"

Crowley wanted to call him back. Truly tell him why this was necessary, why he will never really die -as long as heaven uses him as one of the poster boys. Instead he goes and sleeps away the rest of the century.

~~~

A century later, Aziraphale hands him the holy water.

"Don't go unscrewing the cap, now."

Crowley turns to face him. Nearly six thousand years and he still looks at him the same. That fond look of disapproval mixed with something the demon was too afraid to name.

"I'll give you a lift, anywhere you wanna go,"

Aziraphale pursed his lips, about to say something that didn't wish to come out.

"You go too fast for me, Crowley."

Oh for god's sake. They'd literally had sex a decade ago. They had been fooling around since before the wheel had been invented! Crowley has loved him for even longer. If they went any slower they'd be going _backwards_!

It was a small reprieve, to hold and kiss and fuck one another when the world was going to shit. They never made a fuss about it, they had all the time in the world.

Crowley sighed, and offered him a ride once more.

~~~  
You see, it turns out they didn't really have all the time in the world.

It turns out that they had only eleven years.

Crowley wished he had the blind faith in heaven he once prided himself in. But all he had was a wavering belief in god's existence.

Aziraphale and Crowley got wasted that night, drowning their worries in alcohol. There wasn't much they could do but watch. Just like they'd watched the rest of human history go by.

Crowley dearly wished he could change this. Perhaps he was no longer a beloved above but he still loved. He still felt for all the dolphins and whales and chimps. They'd all be gone. _All over again_.

Except-

"I have an idea-"

~~~  
Crowley really did love children.

There was something comforting, in taking care of young Warlock. Something rusty, but familiar inside of him uncoiled. An urge to protect, to nurture.

He began to plead to God again, hoping that the boy didn't have to go through with the divine plan.

Aziraphale was right there with him. Godparents, fancy that!

They didn't talk about what was between them. Only spent their free moments acting upon it.

"Crowley," Aziraphale would say, as if talking about the weather, " _kiss me_."

He'd kiss Aziraphale once, twice, thrice, multiple times. Against the bookshelves, of the shop, in the privacy of a small little restaurant Aziraphale loved, in his Bentley as Tchaikovsky very unsubtly played _Crazy Little Thing Called Love_.

It reminded him of those little last stock sales that humans flocked to. Take as much as you can, as freely as you can before it runs out. He was proud of creating these sales, told the downstairs it promoted greed.

Sometimes they'd just hold each other. Always behind closed walls, imaginative enough to think that their bosses won't find out. There were no words needed for Crowley.

He quietly held him and let himself be held and love and be loved. After all, he might never get to do this again.  
~~~  
God had stopped talking to him a long time ago, but he still called out to her.

"You said you'd test them, but don't test them to destruction!"

He found his answer in the silence.

Alpha Centauri, he remembers crafting it with his own hands. Lovely this time of the year. He and Aziraphale would be able to exist comfortably there.

Aziraphale, did not agree.

"We're on _our_ side!" Hissed Crowley.

"There is no our side! Not anymore!"

Crowley walked away from the bandstand knowing that he will ask him once again.  
~~~  
The bookshop burns and Crowley's heart crumbles to ash with it.

He lost his friend. His only friend in this world! Oh how much time they'd wasted.

Ineffable plan? He gives up. He couldn't keep going. Not now. There was no plan and there was no god. Nothing had value without Aziraphale. Neither hell nor heaven had anything to offer to him.

He'd rushed into the burning flames alone, and emerged, lonelier than he had ever been in over six thousand years. Beneath the ash and soot that flaked his face, he looked very tired, and very pale, and very scared.

He drank his sorrows in the nearest pub, alcohol tempering the hellfire in his breath. Every moment, every second hurt. If only Aziraphale-

" _Crowley?_ "

The serpent took off his glasses, shocked. There was hope after all.  
~~~  
"Do something or... Or I'll never talk to you again!"

Perhaps stopping time wasn't exactly doing something, but it was a start. The them defeated the horsemen and Crowley dearly wished he wasn't a demon. He too wanted to take part in this, celebrate the value of this planet and all who lived in it.

He beamed with pride as Adam Young denounced his own father. He rebelled for the same reason Crowley fell. He loved her creations just enough to not fail them.

Satan was a stuck up, anyway.  
~~~  
The world starts over again and Crowley gives humanity yet another shot.

Aziraphale buys him a snake keychain for the keys to his Bentley. They go on drives leading to nowhere quite often, so it felt fitting.

They kiss again, under the stars, on a park bench, on a loveseat in Paris. They enjoy each other in ways that most humans never quite figure out the value of. They hold hands in movie theatres and go to the Opera every night for an entire month. They go for picnics and lunches at the Ritz. They buy a bunch of silly ties together and link their hands together in public.

It's very human of them, but as Adam had proven, you can choose your own fate. 

There's something in his demonic heart that finally _heals_ , resolves itself. It forms something not quite angelic, but certainly not something that belongs in hell.

Raphael, in all his goodness was a thing of the past. Crowley was the future and with Aziraphale by his side? He wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

 _A siren's call, the folly of men,_  
_I fall in love with you all over again_  
_Years have gone, the passage of time,_  
_Your words all taste like sour old wine_  
_My tongue is cruel, the deed is done,_  
_The one who's heart was broken is all but gone_  
_You turn away, I grab your hand,_  
_Your face smooths out like a wave on sand_  
_An angel's fall, the folly of men,_  
_I fall in love with you all over again_

**Author's Note:**

> The poem at the end is mine! Please let me know what you think!


End file.
